A Life in Shadow
by ArgonianLick
Summary: When tragedy plunges Veria into sorrow, she abandons her only family to wander Skyrim in self-exile. Slowly she falls, eventually finding herself bent and broken on the shores of Riften. Ready for death, she never expected to find a friend. Little by little, she struggles to find new strength in the arms of a new family.
1. Chapter 1

The following is a continuation of _The Argonian Slave_, but it is** not** neccessary to read _The Argonian Slave_ before reading _A Life in Shadow._

* * *

The shores of the Rift were shrouded in midnight fog, and the moons and stars above burned with silent fury. It was colder here than it had any right to be, being so far south. But the wind of the mountains found refuge here, as did the hearts of men drawn to the ill side of life. Riften was the only proper city in the Rift. It was a nest of rats, ever shrouded in fog from Lake Henrich and teeming with the worst kinds of men. Only criminals had business there. Any who visited pass through quickly, hopefully with most of their gold still in their pockets.

It was when darkness fell that the unsavory did their work, sneaking about the city while the inhabitants slept. There were few out this particular night. At most there was a poor soul or two out searching for a stash of skooma, a poisonous substance that bound a man to its consumption. Few were able to resist its pull after a single taste.

This night an unexpected company went unnoticed by the scuffling addicts and the few disinterested guards that wandered the docks at this late hour. The wooden doors that closed off the inner city canal opened just enough to permit passage to a small boat and its passengers. Three youths sat toward the front, looking eagerly out upon the waters ahead while a black robed woman reclined at the stern, her arm draped across the back gunwale. Though the vessel was guided by no discernible means, it nonetheless moved deliberately through the water, parting the fog and raising nary a ripple with its passing. The fog was a fortunate occurrence. It rose well above the vessel and its passengers, cloaking their departure. Not a soul would know they had departed from the city.

From the prow, a curious sight was spotted. One of the young passengers threw their hand forward and whispered earnestly. The woman at the stern shifted her attention to the shore, saying something to her young charges. Then her head tilted slightly, as though someone unseen had whispered in her ear, after which the boat changed course toward a small rocky outcrop on the beach and the alien shadow crumpled amidst the broken rocks.

Barely recognizable as human beneath layers of dirt and river brine, was a Nord woman. Her leather armor was battered and repaired haphazardly in several places. Her reddish brown hair was matted and tangled with mud, and her face suffered a small red gash across her cheek. A dark bruise spread from her temple to her cheekbone, sending ripples of purple down her neck. Her limbs were bent and heavy, twisted in the jutting stones that had plucked her from the waves as they receded, all of her beauty masked by the aftermath of some stroke of misfortune.

It was obvious she didn't choose to lay here. The lapping of the waves against her knees stirred no response. Her mind was lost, buried deep beneath the cold waves and spinning madly with visions of the past she tried so hard to forget. It had been almost two years, but his face still haunted her, even in her dreams.

She was prepared to die and, in the shadow of her unconsciousness, she made no effort to wake. She simply waited for the Void to take her back to Sithis, if he even wanted her anymore. But her time was not yet done. The boat drew near to kiss the beach beside the dying woman. At a spoken word, the curious youths kept their seats as the robed woman stepped out upon the shore.

She approached the broken woman, ascending from sand to stone leaving all the trace of a shadow, and knelt beside her. After a moment's examination the robed woman reached out, sweeping aside several strands of muddied hair from Nord's face. There was a whispered question from the boat, to which she responded softly, "No. She will not see the Void tonight."  
Placing a hand upon the Nord's forehead, the robed woman brought forth a golden light that fell upon the broken one, invigorating her body and drawing her back from the brink of death. But only just. The robed woman nodded in satisfaction as the Nord's her chest rose and fell in shallow breaths that promised she would see the coming day.

Then the robed woman leaned forward until they were only inches apart and whispered, "Hear me. Your life is not over yet. There is work to be done. Find your strength and mend yourself. Then we will meet again, Veria." And before she retreated back to the boat, she placed a kiss above Veria's right eye.

When Veria woke, there was only the light of the stars to greet her.

* * *

**1 Year, 8 Months Ago**

* * *

"No, no, no, no," Babette slapped the Nightshade from Veria's hand. "Don't add that yet! Do you want to poison us both? You have to grind the Deathbell seeds clockwise for _at least_ three more minutes..." She demonstrated this with her mortar and pestle, and Veria carefully copied the movements. Babette was a skilled alchemist. This was no surprise, as she had over three hundred years of practice. When Veria first met her, she could tell Babette wasn't an ordinary child. She had the body of a girl no older than ten, but the way she spoke and carried herself was a testament to her true age.

One day, Veria worked up the courage to ask, "Babette, don't you ever wish you could have the body of an adult, rather than a child?" Her response began with a dark and unsettling giggle.  
"I used to," she said. "But looking like a child has been quite useful to me. I'm never perceived as a threat. This makes hunting quite...interesting."  
Babette found a home in the Dark Brotherhood years before Veria was brought to them. For a while she was wary of Veria, as she was with all outsiders. When Babette realized Veria truly held none of the prejudices of the common Tamriel mortal, and when she saw her own bloodlust reflected in Veria's eyes, Babette was proud to call her a friend. Consequently, the prices of her alchemy lessons were at last reasonable.

The potion they were making was a poison that put the drinker to sleep for several hours before finally killing them. The recipe was slightly more complicated than usual, and Veria was having trouble mustering the patience for it. She usually preferred to buy her potions rather than make them herself, but alchemy skills could be quite useful to her in the field, so she bit her lip and continued grinding.

"Is Tulian still out on a contract?" Babette asked.  
Veria nodded and said, "Yes, but he should be back sometime soon. Markarth isn't far."  
"Markarth again?" Babette raised an eyebrow. "Hmm...A lot of contracts there these days, it seems. Relatively speaking. Who is it this time?"  
Veria shrugged. "Some nobleman, I think. Whoever it is, Tulian won't linger. Unlike you and I, he's quite efficient."  
Babette chuckled. "Doesn't like to play with his prey. Never has."  
Veria smiled and refocused on her mortar and pestle.

About half an hour later, they both had vials filled with reddish liquid and capped neatly with bits of cork. Babette plucked Veria's from the table and opened it. She took a drop on her finger and tasted it, spitting it immediately onto the floor. She held the vial up to the light and considered it a moment more.  
"Hmm...Add a pinch more of Deathbell seed next time and it'll be perfect."  
Veria nodded and scribbled a note into a small journal she kept to keep track of the things she learned from Babette.

"If you'll excuse me," Babette said with a yawn. "I feel the sun will be rising soon. I'd like to take a rest."  
"Of course," Veria rose and headed for the exit. "Sleep well, Babette."  
Babette nodded headed the opposite direction. Her bed wasn't far from the alchemy table.

Veria made her way through the dim caves, descending carved steps and running her hand along the cold stone walls. She emerged into the main cavern and was greeted by a wash of warm candlelight, and the gentle roaring of a waterfall. The main cavern was vast, and many of her brothers and sisters spent their free time here. In one corner was a waterfall streaming in from some underground creek and pooling into a small pond. Above it hung a seal of Sithis, made from stained glass that glimmered red and gold in the candlelight. It was the mark of the dread father, the one that watched their work and embraced the souls they sent to him.

Veria was heading for training area to work on her marksmanship when she noticed two fellow assassins entering the cavern from the cave that led to the entrance. A Nord woman and an Argonian were discussing something as they walked. Astrid, the woman, was no doubt pestering him about taking so much time on his contract. As the leader of the Dark Brotherhood, it was her business to keep contracts running efficiently, and she couldn't have contractors thinking the Brotherhood was dwindling. They were dwindling, but that was beside the point. If people knew, it would be bad for business.  
At the sight of them, Veria smiled and hurried toward them.  
"Tulian!" she said, wrapping her arms around her beloved. Tulian smiled and returned the embrace. His scales were cool against her skin, and even after almost two years together Veria never tired of the sensation. Astrid excused herself as they shared a passionate kiss. When they got started there was no interrupting them. She would continue her conversation with Tulian some other time.

It must have been the small hours of the morning, but Veria didn't feel sleepy. She wrapped her arms around Tulian's waist and pressed into him. They both knew what was coming. The bedrooms didn't offer as much privacy as one would hope, but there was a perfectly good dungeon in the Sanctuary that no one saw fit to fill with prisoners in quite some time.

* * *

Veria shuffled down the road. Every moment was agony, and every step threatened to fail and send her sprawling across the beaten road. The sun had not yet risen, and the mist from Lake Henrich so choked the road that Veria didn't see the Riften gate until she was a mere five strides from it. The guards that stood on either side of heavy doors saw the broken woman approaching, and considered her for a moment. She was covered in mud and her legs wobbled, threatening to give way. One hand clutched her side, as if trying to hold her torso together, while the other dangled beside her. Her face was cast downward, devoid of life. She wasn't a threat in the least, and certainly not strong enough to resist a shakedown.

"Halt!" the guard said as she neared. She stopped, but did not look up. "You don't look so good, friend. Pay the toll, say...100 coins, and you can get your wounds tended to-"  
Veria seized the guard by the front of his tunic and pulled him toward her. She stared into the holes of his helmet, forcing him to stare back. Her eyes were a void, set ablaze by fury. The strength of her grip was shocking, considering the state she was in. She was so fast that the other guard barely had time to react. By the time he drew his weapon, she was already speaking.  
Her voice so much more terrifying than it had any right to be, coming from such a beautiful face. "Don't screw with me," she said. "Or I'll feed your eyes to the skeevers in the Ratway."

Under his helmet, the guard was sweating. He gulped, desperately hoping she couldn't see the terror in his eyes. "There's no need for that," he said, composing himself. "I didn't realize you've been to Riften before-" Veria threw him back to his place beside the door and pushed on. "Welcome to Riften," the guard said hastily, mostly out of habit. She left the guards behind and shuffled her way into the city.

Her legs could go no further, and buckled beneath her. She shot out a hand to stop herself from falling onto her face, but the edges of her vision darkened. She tried to stand, but only found the ground coming closer. Her face made contact with the cold, wet stone, and everything went dark.

* * *

Veria's whine echoed through the caves. Her arms were drawn up above her and secured tightly with leather strips around her wrists. The iron bars of the cage pressed into the skin of her back with every movement. Tulian's chest pressed against her breasts, and his tongue danced around her ear. With every push her blood was set ablaze. Heat, intoxicating in it's intensity, spread from a spark beneath her stomach to the tip of her tongue. Veria felt him inside her, his scales rubbing against her skin like tiny river stones. They scratched her, they dominated her. They satisfied a hunger in the pit of her stomach that never truly went away.

Even before she was of age, when she lived with her father in Windhelm, the hunger was always there. She used to satisfy it in secret, with men both single and married. It used to be her prime concern, hunting them down, seducing them, and finding another, all without getting caught. It was fun for a long time until she met Tulian. In him she found more pleasure than any of the weathered Nords of Windhelm. She also found solace in his arms, contentment that always eluded her before she met him. He helped her realize her love of domination, of taking life, and brought her to the Dark Brotherhood.  
Veria was happy. She wanted to spend the rest of her days in the Brotherhood, with Tulian.

Veria's toes curled around the iron lattice of the cage. Their movement slowed, and Veria sighed heavily. "Tulian," she sighed. He replied with a kiss, and she returned it. His reptilian tongue danced in her mouth, and laughed internally. They're mouths were so asynchronous, it was a miracle they could kiss at all.  
Finally, Tulian untied her wrists and took her in his arms. She rested her head on his shoulder. Her mind wandered, and she thought of the beautiful stained glass effigy of Sithis they had in the Sanctuary.

"Tulian?" She said.  
"Yes?"  
"Do you remember when I told you about my dream? The one that Sithis sent me?"  
"Ah, yes," he said, looking back. "That wasn't long after we met. Sithis blessed you with that vision, and brought you home to me." His arms drew her closer and he sighed. Veria knew the memory wasn't all good for him. Even if he gained a lover, he lost a friend that day. "Why do you bring that up now?" He asked.  
"I was just wondering..." she paused, and he waited patiently. "To set me on the right path, you arranged for me to kill your friend."  
"He was your captor," Tulian reminded her. "Sithis wanted him dead."

"I know," Veria replied. "I wanted him dead, too. More than anything. But he was your only friend outside the Brotherhood. You _must_ resent me for killing him."  
"No, my love," Tulian turned her face so he could look into her eyes. "He was my only remaining tie to the world outside the Brotherhood. I was weak to hold onto his friendship. I was away from the Brotherhood for many years while I helped him. Sithis wanted me back. He wanted you in his family. Killing Bedrel was the only course of action to be taken. You are a blessing, my love. I don't resent you for a thing." He brought his lips down to hers again, and they shared another passionate kiss.  
"I love you, Tulian," she said.  
"I love you, Veria."

* * *

Veria was itching for a new contract. She spent the day with Tulian, and with his blessing went to Nazir for a new job. He was a Redguard, and chose to wear the traditional clothing of his homeland instead of the Dark Brotherhood armor. He was sarcastic sometimes, but he always had some remark about a job that made Veria smile.  
"Veria," he said as she approached. "It's about time you came looking for work. I have a contract for you."  
"Don't think I'm getting lazy, Nazir," she said with a playful punch at his shoulder. "I just wanted to see Tulian first."  
He grunted and handed her the written contract. "Not the most glamorous of contracts, but I think you'll like it."

Veria opened the contract and skimmed Nazir's rough handwriting. "Ah," she said. "Solitude. I haven't been there in a while. Not many people there would contact us."  
"You should go soon. Shouldn't keep our contractors waiting."  
Veria pocketed the contract and took a moment to gather supplies. She donned her Brotherhood armor and weapons, some food for the road, and gave Tulian a goodbye kiss.

And then she was off Solitude on what was to be quite an enjoyable job.

* * *

This introduction to Life in Shadow was written by ArgonianLick with help from LadyDragon1316. Check out her story, _The Wolf of Cyrodiil._ This story will hopefully lead into her next installment of _The Wolf of Cyrodiil_, **_The Lady of the Isles_**.

This story will be a little different from _Argonian Slave_, focusing more on Veria's journey as a character rather than romantic encounters, although romance will still play a part. Thank you for reading _A Life in Shadow_. More chapters to come.


	2. Chapter 2

The carriage was hardly full. Not many people traveled the roads these days. The driver urged the horse forward slow and steady on the uneven road. Veria sat patiently in the back. Her Dark Brotherhood armor was concealed by a long cloak that she had drawn up tightly around her body. She kept her head low to prevent the wind from disturbing the fur-trimmed hood. Without looking up, she could tell they were passing through the Reach. The road had become rough, and frequently rose and fell with the uneven terrain.

The carriage driver stopped by Markarth, where he picked up two more passengers bound for Solitude. Veria glanced quickly up at them as they took a seat across from her. It was a Nord couple, dressed for travel in cloaks with no hoods and a small satchel of coin tied to the man's belt. They weren't wealthy, not enough to own their own carriage at least, but they looked well-off enough to afford taking a trip to Solitude. Shopkeepers or owners of an inn, Veria guessed. When they sat down, the woman offered Veria a polite smile and nodded her head in silent greeting. Veria returned the gesture and maintained the silence. From what little conversation they made, Veria discerned they were on their way to visit a friend who's husband had taken ill.

They spoke less and less as they drew closer to Solitude, and while Veria didn't mind listening to the idle chatter of common folk, she was thankful for the silence. The sounds of road, of the forests and mountain air, were soothing. She let her mind go still, and remained in meditation until the carriage came to a halt.  
"Here we are, ladies and gentlemen," the driver said. "Watch your step as you go. The road up to the city gate is rather steep."  
Veria stepped down and inhaled deeply. She stood tall and erect, her shoulders back and face tilted downward slightly. Her cloak cascaded down from her shoulders in a straight line. She was like a shadow, floating over the ground, noticed by almost no one. She released her breath and started up the road.

The contract said her contact would be waiting in the Winking Skeever. It was a man by the name of Rudnar. He had no residence in Solitude, according to what information Veria was given about him. He had been renting out a room at the inn for a few weeks now.  
When she entered the city, Veria took no time to admire it. It was a beautiful city indeed, especially in the starlight. But the darkness wouldn't last forever, and Veria was eager for a fresh kill. She went straight to the Winking Skeever.

As she entered, the inn owner looked up from his work cleaning the counter and greeted her.  
"Welcome to the Winking Skeever, friend!" he said. As she approached him, he continued. "We have warm beds and warm food. What will it be?"  
The man had a genuine smile on his face. He seemed truly happy for Veria's visit. He would likely have been happy if anyone had walked through his door, but Veria couldn't help but be flattered all the same. This was not the time to be sultry, though, so she kept it to herself. As an agent of the Brotherhood, she maintained a shaded exterior, and did not yield to her desire to smile back at him.

Quietly enough so she might not be overheard, she asked, "I seek a man called Rudnar."  
His warm and welcoming presence fractured slightly at her tone. It was always amusing to see men intimidated by her. "Ah yes," He said. "Rudnar. Good patron, that man. Keeps mostly to himself, but a decent enough fellow. He's been here for a few weeks now. As long as he keeps paying, he's welcome to stay longer. His room is on the second floor, directly across from the stairs."  
Veria turned and headed towards the stairs, but the innkeeper stopped her and asked, "You won't be causing any trouble now, will you?"  
She turned and watched him fall silent at the sight of the void in her eyes. When she answered, she did so quietly, but with an innocence that he could not deny. "Of course not," she said. "Rudnar has been waiting for me."

The innkeeper nodded and and returned to cleaning the counter. He watched her out of the corner of his eye as she climbed the stairs to the second floor. The door to the room was shut, but unlocked. She pushed her way into the room like a snake into a rabbit's den. She was as silent as a whisper, and she closed the door behind her just as quietly. None of the patrons of the inn were aware that anyone had entered the room, but the man inside was already awake, waiting for her.

He sat in a chair in the corner opposite the bed. A single candle illuminated his form. He must have been at least fifteen years older than Veria, but she could detect strong arms beneath his simple commoner's clothing. His face was weathered, but had not yet started to wither with the passing of years. His beard was cropped short and sported a deep black color with flecks of gray near the roots. A thin scar traveled from the corner of his left eye to the depths on the hair on his jaw. This man had seen battles. What was he doing here, living out of a tavern?  
"Is... is it you?" He said. "You've come to hear my contract?"  
Veria nodded once and stepped forward. "What is it you ask of the Dark Brotherhood?" she said.  
"I want you to kill someone for me, obviously. As you can probably tell, I've seen a lot of the battlefield. Just a few years ago I was serving in the Imperial army. I was...relieved of duty rather suddenly. But when I returned home I found my wife had...died. She had fallen ill and had no one to take care of her. It wasn't until later that I found out she was poisoned by a man named Balfun. He fled and attempted to allude me. He changed his name and made a new life for himself. Somehow got his hands on a house by the Blue Palace." His eyes darkened and fury pierced his tone. "I want you to sneak into that house and kill him. Make it painful, if you can. I want him to suffer."

Veria nodded. "Which house?"  
"It's Proudspire Manor, next to the Bard's College." He took out a coin purse and handed it to Veria. "400 coins," he said. "I'll give you the rest once the job is done."

Without another word, Veria pocketed the gold and left the man to stew in his own vengeance. Such contracts were common. Hate made people turn to even the most taboo of things.

* * *

With dawn hours away, Veria wasted no time in honing in on her target. She shed her cloak and stashed it in a bush of Nightshade. It would only get in her way. Proudspire Manor was easy enough to find, and with no shortage of back alleys and shadowy corners, Veria had no trouble becoming invisible. Patrolling guardsmen were easy enough to sneak by. Getting into Proudspire would be another matter. She found a back door, locked of course.

Child's play, she thought, pulling out her lock picks. As she pulled and prodded inside the mechanism she recalled the first time Tulian taught her to pick locks. She picked it up quickly and practiced constantly when he brought her to the Brotherhood. She had long since mastered the craft, and had the door to Proudspire Manor open in a matter of seconds.

She slipped inside and dissolved into the darkness. There were no candles to light the room, and as Veria's eyes adjusted to the darkness she noticed something amiss. The place smelled musty and stagnant, like no one had lived in it for a long time. In the gloom she could see dust floating in the air. A man was supposed to be living here? Squinting, she could make out a faint orange glow cascading down the stairs. Someone had a candle lit upstairs. It was likely the man hadn't had the time to furnish the place yet, or the funds.

She climbed the stairs, careful not to let them squeak under her weight. She crept into the room, finding it almost bare save for a clean table and a man. The table held a plate of bread and cheese along with a single candle. The man sat facing away from Veria, hunched over like he was reading a book in the candlelight. She unsheathed her dagger and approached him, a target already in her sights. Slitting his throat would be slow, like Rudnar wanted, but also be quiet enough not to attract attention.

When Veria was but a breath away from him, she struck. In one swift movement, she rose, gathered the man's scalp in her fist and yanked his head backward. She brought the dagger to his throat, and stopped. The man's eyes gazed up at her, veiled with mist. He was cold, and had likely been dead for many hours.  
"What in Obliv-"  
_Thwap_

Veria lurched forward, catching herself on the table. An arrow had been buried into the leather armor between her shoulders. Thankfully, her armor was thick and only the very tip of the arrow found its way through. At most it merely scraped at her skin.  
She righted herself and spun around. At the top of the stairs was the shape of a woman with a hunting bow in her hand. She was slight, with the build of a ranger. No match for one skilled in closer combat.

Veria dislodged the arrow in her back and lunged forward, dagger in hand, but was stopped mid-stride when a large hand suddenly enveloped her face. She was thrown backward into the ground. When she regained her senses, she saw a large, muscular man standing over her. His foot pressed heavily into her shoulder. She tried to stab his thigh with her dagger, but he swatted it away like one does with a fly. It clattered to the corner of the room, and Veria was left defenseless.

She struggled beneath the man's weight, but it was like trying to move a mountain.  
"Don't struggle," he said in a voice like tumbling boulders. "You'll only make things worse for yourself." As he spoke, the woman walked to the windowsill and lit a candle that stood there. As the warm glow cast itself across the room, Veria got a better look at her assailants.

The woman had fair skin and a rounded Breton face. The man that stood over her was an Orc. His grayish green skin was pulled snugly around firm, toned muscles. A war hammer hung across his back. He would have no trouble snapping Vera's neck if she attacked him.  
The sound of creaking on the steps caused the Orc to glance away. In this moment Veria made a grab for a dagger that hung from his belt, but she underestimated just how fast he was.  
He grabbed her wrist with one hand and struck her head with the other.

Veria's mind was blurred and the room spun. In frustration, the Orc lifted her by the neck of her armor and pulled his fist back for another punch.  
"Stop," came a voice from the stairs.  
Through black, clouded vision Veria squinted to see who it was. The Orc very suddenly dropped her, and she crumpled against the floor. She slowly pushed herself into a sitting position, shaking her head to clear the fog. Blinking, the candlelit room came back into focus, and she saw who the third person was.

"Rudnar," she said. He glanced at her, but she said nothing more.  
He looked back to his comrades. "Perhaps you two should wait downstairs," he said. "I'd like a moment with our friend here."  
The orc tried to protest, but was silenced with a steely look from Rudnar. Without another word he and the woman left, and Rudnar stood alone in front of Veria.

He had replaced his common clothing with a worn but well-polished set of steel armor. Veria cursed herself for not seeing through his facade in the tavern. She stood, and he waited patiently.  
"You've made a grave mistake, Rudnar," she said. "Is that even your name?"  
"It is," he nodded. "You may call me that if you wish,"  
"I will call you nothing, because that is what you will be." She crossed her arms and let the shadows fall across her shoulders. "You have threatened the Dark Brotherhood. This is not a thing we take lightly."

"You're unarmed," Rudnar said. "I stand between you and the only exit. I'm strong enough to break your bones in my hands." He took three steps toward her, but she stood her ground. "You should be more worried about yourself right now." He continued toward her, but she didn't even twitch. When he stood close enough to feel his breath on her forehead, she asked, "What do you want?"

"I want you to tell me where your family is hiding."  
Veria laughed. "Hiding?" she said. "The Dark Brotherhood doesn't hide. We look out from every shadow, and listen for the Sacrament."  
Rudnar gripped Veria's forearm and yanked her sideways. When her leg flared out to keep her balance, he landed a solid kick just above her knee. There was sickening _crack_, and she collapsed which a shriek.  
He kept hold of her arm and let her gasp for a moment before yanking her back upright. She nearly fell, but his hands gripped her shoulders like iron, keeping her up.  
Veria's heart pumped blood through her veins at ten times the normal rate. Her leg felt like it was ablaze, and she clenched her teeth to keep from whimpering.

"That wasn't an answer," Rudnar said. "One more time, my dear. Where is the Dark Brotherhood hiding?"  
Veria's lip curled, revealing her clenched teeth. He'd keep this up as long as he had to, she knew it. But it didn't matter how much pain he'd inflict on her. She'd never betray her family. At least, she hoped not.  
"Where?" he asked again, this time with a growl and a violent shake.  
"Rot in Oblivion," Veria answered.

Rudnar threw her across the room. She collided with the wall and fell limp in the far corner of the room. There was a window on the wall above her. An escape route, potentially, but only if she could get a few free moments. Rudnar was already standing over her.  
"I hate this part of my job," he said. "It would be so much easier for everyone if you would just cooperate." He squatted down and angled her chin so that he could look at her face. "Tell me where they are."  
Veria buried any emotion that tried to bubble its way into her voice, and she banished all fear from her face. "No," she said simply. It was no surprise to her that this earned her back handed strike across the mouth. It wouldn't have been so bad if he wasn't wearing gauntlets.

"Maybe we should start with something a little simpler," he said calmly. "Tell me your name. Where are you from?"  
"Are you trying to torture me or sleep with me?" Veria said through waves of pain.  
"Just your name, then."  
With her broken lip conveniently filling her mouth with blood, she saw no better opportunity than that moment to spit on his face. Rudnar flinched and stood, wiping the red of the bridge of his nose. He stomped firmly into her side, and she felt one of her ribs fracture.

Veria choked out a cry of pain, and she clenched her fists in an attempt to contain it. She spit another mouthful of blood onto the floor and said, "Careful. Can't answer your questions if I pass out."  
"We have all night," he grumbled. His voice was venomous, in an attempt to scare her, no doubt. But she could detect frustration in his tone as well, and fought the urge to smile.

Suddenly a shout came from the bottom of the stairs. It was the orc. "Rudnar!" he yelled. "We have a problem!"  
Rudnar quickly turned and shouted down the stairs, "What is it?"  
Before he finished the question, Veria was already halfway out the window. When he saw her escaping and sprinted to catch her, it was already too late. She fell to a balcony, too close to the edge. With her good leg she tried to slow her falling speed on the railing before plummeting past it to the ground. It was impossible to contain a small yell of pain when she collided with the dirt. The wind was knocked right out of her, but she had no time to regain her breath.

Veria forced herself up and hobbled as fast as she could down the road. The window had dropped her into the alley behind the house. This was good. No guards to get in her way. However, there were also very few escape routes, and she had no time. The mercenaries were no doubt on their way, and Veria could barely walk properly. Her only hope was that whatever problem they had would delay them just enough to let her slip away.

There was not a moment to waste. Veria sprinted, as much as she could with a broken leg, to the next house over and slipped into the courtyard. She dove into the hedges and made her way for the street. When Rudnar and his company came running down the street in pursuit, Veria had already slipped into the sewer hole in the middle of the road. She replaced it neatly over her head, and she felt Rudnar's boots tread over it, unaware. It was like she was never there at all.


End file.
